


Burned

by Fyre



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 20:26:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumpelstiltskin warned Lacey that she was playing with fire. Turns out it was the other way around.</p><p>A follow-on to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/775749">Playing with Fire</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Burned

No one would dare cross Rumpelstiltskin if they valued their hides.

That was why he left the door unlocked.

That was how she got into the shop, when he was licking his wounds, after seeing Bae cross the street to avoid him. He was distracted and he was unhappy, and barely acknowledged the bell as the door opened.

“I’m closed,” he said, his back to the intruder, as he sorted through bottles on the counter.

“Sign says open,” Lacey purred, pressing against his back, her arm around his waist. He froze and she chuckled, cupping him through his pants, and she pressed her hips against his backside. “Saw people heading this way. Wanna give them a show?”

His hands were splayed on the counter, and his breath was coming quick. “I could put you facedown over the counter,” he whispered raggedly. “You’re being presumptuous, little girl.”

She nuzzled at his hair, then bit lightly at his earlobe. “You’re the one getting hard.” Her other hand nimbly undid his belt, and he hissed as she stuck her hand down his trousers, her hand cold, but that didn’t change the fact that it was her hand and she was touching him.

He grabbed her wrists, jerking them back, and turned around to face her. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to be wrathful. He grabbed her by the arms and pulled her closer to him, and he remembered a time, a place, when he had shaken her until her teeth rattled, until she had turned her face from the monster.

“Don’t play games with me,” he snarled. “Not today.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

He could see it in the way her eyes lit up, and her teeth were bared in challenge.

She pushed his hands off her, put her hands to his chest, and shoved him back until his back collided with the edge of the counter. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, Gold,” she said, all dark and feline and smiling.

All at once she was kissing him. Hard. Demanding. Bruising.

He tried to reach for her. To push her back. To pull her closer. He didn’t know. He didn’t get a chance to find out either, because she grabbed his hands and pinned them down on the counter on either side of him.

“You gonna behave?” she whispered against his lips, pressing against him. No short skirt today, but a shirt with a neckline almost down to her sternum and trousers so fitted they looked like they were painted on.

“You think you can tell me what to do, dearie?” he growled in warning.

It was a mistake.

She ground her hips against him, her eyes holding his as she squeezed his wrist, holding him in place. “Are you,” she whispered, “gonna behave?”

He bared his teeth, then hissed as she lunged and bit at his throat. It sent heat spiking through him and his shoes skittered on the floor. She dragged her tongue over the bite, then breathed against his skin, “I want to suck you off, Gold. I want to see you begging for it.”

A low whine escaped his throat. 

She sucked on his earlobe. “Tell me you don’t want that.”

He did. Gods, he did. Belle had tried once, and they’d ended up laughing so much that she’d given up. He strained his wrists against her hand, trying once more to push her back. “I have work to do,” he gritted out.

She nibbled softly on the edge of his ear. “Then tell me you don’t want it,” she breathed, her body slowly rolling against his. “I can walk away, Gold. Leave you alone in your dusty little shop with your dusty little relics and your dusty little cock in your dusty little hand.”

His head fell back, and he couldn’t speak, couldn’t push the girl who was and wasn’t Belle or Lacey away from him. One of her hands moved from his to his belt again.

“That’s what I thought,” she murmured smugly against his jaw. Her hand closed around his cock, stroking it with a lazy familiarity and he shivered. Up, then down, with just enough of a pause for the blood to throb through him. “Tell me what you want.”

He forced his head down, looking at her. “You know,” he rasped.

She bit her lower lip, her eyes gleaming, and looked so much like Belle that he wanted to weep. “I want to hear you say it,” she breathed. “Big, terrible, powerful Mr Gold. I want to hear you ask. I want to hear you beg.”

The edge of the counter was biting into his palms. He would have bruises. “You.”

She put her head to one side, smiling that little girl smile that wasn’t Lacey at all. “Me what?”

He bared his teeth, a ragged breath catching. “Fire, dearie,” he ground out. “You were warned.”

Her mouth crushed against his and the kiss was savage and plundering and stole every bit of breath that he had. “And I want to be burned,” she reminded, rubbing her hips against his, pressing her hand hard around him. “Tell me.”

He tried to lift his hand, to touch her face, to make this more than something crude and quick and emotionless, but she brushed it aside.

“No,” she said softly, dangerously. “Tell me. You can touch me if you tell me.”

He stared at her, shuddering with every slow stroke of her hand. He tried to swallow, but it felt like there was a lump in his throat. “Your lips,” he whispered. It wasn’t entirely a lie. He wanted to kiss her. Kiss her properly. Bring her back and save her as she had tried to save him.

For a moment, colour seemed to rush to her cheeks. “Where?” she whispered.

He leaned closer, his hands pressed hard against the counter. “Everywhere.”

Her fingers tightened around his cock and he drew a gulping breath. Her hold was merciless and there was a hunger in her eyes. She liked that he had power, but what she liked more was that she could take it from him and he would let her.

She bit his lower lip softly and tugged. “Specifically?”

“Lacey,” he warned.

She squeezed, narrowed her eyes. “I can wait a long while, Gold,” she whispered. “I can be very, very patient.”

She could. She had been. She wasn’t Belle, but she was.

“Please,” he whispered.

Her eyes darkened, and her lips parted over her teeth. Not a smile. Too much like a tiger to be a smile. “Please what?”

He stared at her. “Do whatever you want to me,” he whispered. He leaned closer until the tips of their noses were touching so softly, almost intimate, but so very much not. “Anything.”

She lifted her head and darted a lick on the tip of his nose. “Do you want me on my knees for you?” she whispered. “Do you wanna be at my mercy?”

Kneeling was humiliation and shame and disgrace in his mind, but for her, she would bend the knee to make him buckle. To her, bending the knee was strength, and he was the one who was weak.

“Gods, yes…” he whispered, closing his eyes.

Her free hand splayed on his chest, and he felt her sliding down his body. She freed his cock from his boxer shorts and his fingers slid against the counter as she brushed her lips against him, earning a choked gasp.

Her hand was still wrapped around him. “Look at me, Gold,” she purred.

He shouldn’t have looked, because he knew he would never be able to get the sight of her there, on her knees, out of his head. She was smiling, no, smirking, and his legs nearly buckled when she closed her mouth around his cock. Her eyes were raised, and she was watching him, and she knew that he would have walked through fire for her right there and then.

He swore, his hands slipping on the edge of the counter, and he felt her chuckle. 

She’d never done it before, he knew. Never, but her mouth was hot and wet and her tongue was moving like she had done it a thousand times. He could feel her nails - longer than usual - biting into his thighs through his trousers.

He made a sound that might have been her name, and her eyes met his, bright, wicked, and knowing. She drew her mouth off him, and he stifled a groan as she rubbed her cheek against his cock. 

“Touch me,” she commanded, the brush of her lips against him making his hips jerk helplessly. One of his hands sank into her hair and she closed her eyes like a cat, her head tilting this way, then that, brushing against his palm, then his cock again. 

“Lacey, please,” he panted out, shaking.

Her eyes flicked open, and she bit her lower lip as she brought up her hand to squeeze him again. “That’s what I wanted to hear,” she said. Her rosy lips teased the tip of his cock, then her tongue too, and his eyes rolled in his head as she sank her head down over him, his fingers twisting into her hair.

Her mouth was enough on its own, but with the feel of her hand, the tangle of her hair around his fingers, his hips jerked reflexively before he could stop them, and she pinned him with her other hand, holding him still and he could see her cheeks hollowing around him, her tongue laving him clean.

She sat back on her heels, wiping at her lips with the back of one hand. Her tongue darted out, catching any trace from her skin, and Rumpelstiltskin released a shuddering breath. She could see what she was doing to him, and she was enjoying it.

Lacey rubbed her index finger against her thumb. “I’d say that was better than coffee to start the day, huh?” she said, getting to her feet.

Rumpelstiltskin untangled his shaking hand from her hair. “And you’ll go neglected?”

Her eyes danced. “You can find a way to make it up to me,” she said. “You know where my place is. I got handcuffs and even a whip or two. If you have toys you want to bring to the party…” She shrugged with a grin. “Your treat.”

Handcuffs.

Whips.

Scourges and flaying.

He managed to force a smile that hid some of the bile rising in his throat. “I’ll look forward to it,” he said. He glanced down at himself, and reached down to tidy himself. “I should clean myself up.”

“Kicking me out?” Lacey feigned shock. “Anyone’d think you were just in it for the blowjob.”

“As I recall, dearie,” he said, leaning heavily on the counter. His cane had fallen. He wasn’t sure where. “That was your idea.”

Her smile flashed wide and wicked. “I can’t help noticing you seemed to enjoy it.” She pushed his hand out of the way and did up his belt for him. When she leaned up to kiss his lips lightly, there was mirth in her eyes. “Tonight?”

“Perhaps.”

Her mouth curved. “No perhaps, Gold,” she said. She patted the front of his trousers. “You wouldn’t want to make me unhappy, would you?”

He wouldn’t. He never would. She knew it too.

Still, he met her eyes, and forced some little defiance into his voice. “I said perhaps, dearie,” he said, baring his teeth. “You’ve have your fun. Don’t push me.”

She laughed, skipping back a step. “Oh, I don’t know, Gold,” she said, her face alight. “I think that could be the wrong kind of fun.” She pressed her fingers to her lips and blew a kiss at him, all but dancing towards the door. 

Gold made his way towards the curtain that divided the back of the shop from the front, as the door rang when she opened it. 

“Hey!”

“Uh. Hi.”

Rumpelstiltskin closed his eyes, leaning against the counter.

Of all the times for Baelfire to choose to see him, it had to be now. He heard them exchange words, names, and stumbled through into the back of the shop. There was a sink there, and as soon as the bell chimed again, as the door closed, he folded over the sink and retched.

He heard the rattle of the curtain rings on the rail, and held onto the edge of the sink, his legs shaking under him. He could feel cold sweat soaking through the back of his shirt, and all he wanted was to be left alone.

If it had been anyone else, anyone but his boy…

“Papa?”

Strange how a full grown man could sound like a frightened child.

Rumpelstiltskin, turned on the tap with a shaking hand and scooped up some water, rinsing out his mouth. Only then did he straighten up and turn to face Baelfire. No. Not anymore. He was Neal now. 

Baelfire was looking at him with the same wary concern that he’d shown when Hook was so close to success. “Are you sick?”

The edge of the sink was still cold under Rumpelstiltskin’s hand. He laughed, brittle. “You could say that,” he said. He ran his other hand - still cool and wet - over his face. “You haven’t found me at my best.”

“You’ll be okay?”

Rumpelstiltskin nodded, leaning against the wall to circle the room and sink down onto the camp bed he still hadn’t got rid of. “I’ll be fine,” he said, knowing that physically, it was true, but otherwise, he had no idea. He looked up at Neal. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I met your other girl,” Neal said, folding his arms. He didn’t come any closer. 

“Other girl?” Rumpelstiltskin asked.

“Lacey, right?” Neal jerked his head towards the door. “I thought it was too much to expect that this Belle was as important as you made out.”

Rumpelstiltskin felt like he was shrinking inwards, and he buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. “No,” he whispered. “No, no, no…” His chest was aching, and she was gone, but was it really betraying her if it was still her he was seeing every time Lacey touched him? Did it matter, if she wasn’t Belle anymore?

Neal didn’t move. Not to comfort. Not to ask. “Young,” he said quietly. “Pretty.”

Rumpelstiltskin lowered his hands, looking up at his son, and something in his expression must have shocked him, because Neal stepped back. “She’s Belle,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice breaking. “Hook took her memories, and Regina put another person in the space that was left behind.” He was weeping, shamelessly, still a pathetic, weak, useless man who couldn’t save the woman he loved. “She’s Belle and she’s gone and I can’t bring her back.”

“But you…” Neal shook his head in confusion. “You’re the most powerful thing there is.”

Rumpelstiltskin was laughing and crying. “Not powerful enough,” he said, burying his head in his hands. “Gods above, I brought this on her and I can’t fix it, Bae. I can’t make it right, and if I don’t have her to help me…” He shook his head. “I can’t do this. I can’t be good. I can’t. Not on my own. I’ve forgotten how.”

Neal was silent for a long while, then warm hands covered Rumpelstiltskin’s hands, drawing them down from his head. His son was crouched in front of him, looking at him, as if he was seeing him for the first time. 

“You’re not on your own, papa,” Baelfire said. “I tried to help you before. Maybe I can really help you this time.”

“Oh, Bae…” Rumpelstiltskin whispered. “Please. Please help me.”

His son knocked his brow gently against Rumpelstiltskin’s. “I will, papa,” he said softly. “I promise.”


End file.
